| What’s up man?
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| Aight
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| Yo Priest what’s up with that track man?
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| Let me represent that shit for dolo man, fuck that
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| Yo fuck that man, word is bond
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| I’m reckin on this mike man, fuck that kid
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| What up
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| I’mma transport inside the mind that ya got
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| And I’mma transport to a braisol and drop to begin
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| To spread ya Aloe head gel
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| Every tape has an inmate and blow up ya brain cells
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| All ya reactions is trapped in my time warp
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| And smoke 'em, ya get leg broken
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| Home, choken by roast a deli slogans
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| To once, quick to get guns I blow ya open
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| I’m from the L’s of the Murderville
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| Where we possess to kill, and strangle the demons, cuz schemin on skills
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| My styles is disguised, nigga ply ya naked eye
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| I twist minds, insert through ya disc drives
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| To reprogram ya dead computer, they ain’t no future
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| When ya beein in a killin zone cross shooter
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| Hype is not for winners it’s for sinners that are losers
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| Guess I spell profanity, on all mics that’ll handle me
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| Then I brain damage, leave ya deaf, dumb and stranded
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| Abandon all ya missed, understand it understands
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| See it’s hectic, for niggas that quenchin
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| So they get wetted, with techs in their hands, hoes in they head
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| Ran on my land, ya kind digest raw stress
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| When all ya thoughts up gots to pay tape, I’m x rated
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| And love to kick that I made it
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| Religion is racism, and I ate this rhythem
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| Oh shit, time to execute that new manuever
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| Cuz I feel this shit will be very unexpected
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| My mind a worse, weapon, murderin all cyphers and sessions
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| I love my moms, cuz havin her gone was a blessin
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| And they know until I stop, not be ready to I fuck it
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| Chop ya head, style, I’m the ripper
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| The mentally ill individual, growin up,
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| thinkin like, hangin with criminals
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| I’m on a Ram-Page and plus I’m lyrical, miracles
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| We make niggas dig up they graves, like the Aztecs with AIDS
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| All hell pays when ya livin in my Horror Days, in my Horror Days
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| Verbally surprising, mind magnetizin
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| Niggas is hypnotized from the rhymes I’m vocalizin
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| Paragraphs, thoughts, thoughts from distorture
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| I dare, from L’s, to when they dwell to my ears fell out
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| I get buddha black when I reless the stress
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| Thoughts that I address, niggas can’t contest
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| Ya get rained on, this random in the flap with the brainstorm
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| Create that new shit while ya still singin the same songs
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| Get it straight, I paralize ya mind state with hate
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| Intense pain, ya brain get maintained to wait superparalysis
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| Allowing these brain cells with cow asarbavation
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| Of a situation that makes an analysis
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| Conclusion, bust might cause confusion cause of the words
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| How you like substitution, conclusion, have ya brain get brutalized
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| Sabotage ya mental, my rhymes ya can’t manage
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| Those that battle, I got that aight no with brain damage
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| Niggas step I guess suicidal intentions
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| Get throwed out the rain like a dame women extensions
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| I leave ya with ya mind in potention
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| That rhymes that I mention,
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| will blast you through a whole nother dimension
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| Your pores, tossed in the land of the lost
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| I keep it real, when it feels no remorse, those that cross
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| My path, will get blasted to the beginning
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| The bottom of the barrel, no tears to admit cuz ya
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| thoughts is crazy narrow
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| Nah, &lifly the death blow front
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| If you wan’t the chance to die, rap fanatic
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| A slave to the rhythem like an adict
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| Man slaughter, my solid flow is sorta automatic
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| When I lift up the spliff and I rip up a rhyme
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| For the fool who wanna flip, I gotta rip on the night
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| When whenever, I’m clever with the style that I shoot with
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| Full of funk, electryifing like ya execution
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| To give to the top, a rock, a droppet
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| I’m wicked outta here like I’m Mustafa forgot dat |